Author's Note

If you've already read this chapter once as of October, you might notice a few minor changes. In getting back into the swing of my writing, I went back and made a few edits to Chapters 3 through 10 before posting Chapter 11. Sorry about that... I promise that you haven't missed out on any major plot changes though. I guess I'm just a bit of a perfectionist, and considering that this story is far from perfect... you do the math. :)

-WR

Chapter Three

On the second annual anniversary of the Double Eclipse, the skies of the OZ were a cloudless azure, and the suns sparkled down on the glittering towers of Central City. Much had changed in the heart of the OZ in the two annuals since the Queen's return, and Central City was much closer to the Shining City on the Hill of old than it had been in the fifteen annuals of the Sorceress's rule. The streets were clear of debris, flowers overflowed in flower boxes and gardens that lined the streets, and the birds sung sweetly in celebration. Although it was early yet, the City was already buzzing with activity. The Queen was scheduled to give her address to the Realm soon, followed later in the morning by a parade of grand proportions. The square in front of the palace was already teaming with citizenry crowding around large view screens positioned there for all to view the Queen's address, the royal family's appearance at the grand balcony, and approach of the parade as it marched from the outskirts of the city to Central Square.

Inside a small shoe box of a shop near the Spiritual District of Central City, one would not have known any of this was happening. The windows of this shop were dingy, letting in just enough of the suns' rays to highlight the dust floating around the window display of crude idols. The shop was cramped and stuffed from floor to ceiling with religious paraphernalia ranging from statuettes to amulets, and crystal balls to incense and candles. In the back of the shop, there was an arrow pointing down to a curtained doorway, over which a sign read "DeMilo the Divinatory – Fortunes Read and Pleas Made for a Reasonable Price." Opposite this door was a counter where a cash register sat in the corner, and on the other end sat an intricate altar to Ozma. A lifelike statuette of the late Queen sat surrounded by a bed of poppies; her golden hair was frozen in a perpetual breeze, and her startling blue eyes seemed to pierce the veil of her frozen countenance. Incense burned before her bare feet, curling around the statue as if attracted to it, and perfuming the air heavily with lavender musk.

In between the divination room and the counter, a small hallway led to what one could only assume was a storeroom. From this hallway, Antoine DeMilo struggled forward, hauling a view screen while he grunted and huffed. DeMilo was a portly little man, with greasy black hair that tried in vain to cover the top of his head. What he lacked on top of his head he made up for with copious amounts of equally oiled facial hair, which he formed into a tightly curled mustache and goatee. Antoine DeMilo was a man obsessed with wealth, and adorned himself with gold in any way possible, from golden hoop earrings and gold chains dangling from his neck, to the gold tooth sparkling from his puffing mouth. DeMilo's opulence did not stop with the gold decorating his extremities – he was frequently to be seen in rich fabrics of red silk and velvet and kept an intricate turbine in his divination chamber when the need arose. DeMilo's round belly heaved as he dragged the view screen out of the storeroom and deposited it heavily on the counter, gasping for breath when he'd relieved himself of the weight.

Behind Antoine DeMilo bustled his twin wives, Marla and Darla. The two women had identical long dark hair, large brown eyes, and button noses. If it weren't for the heavy makeup and tight fitting, brightly colored corsets worn by both women, one might have thought they were only girls, as their features were delicate, and the look in their eyes almost innocent. Today though, they were in a frenzy, buzzing behind their husband, afraid that he would drop their only connection to life outside the crowded shop. When DeMilo set the screen down and leaned over to catch his breath, both women instantly settled down and sighed with relief. While Marla repositioned the screen so they could see it and the front door, Darla ran to get Antoine a cup of tea. Why the twin sisters had married the sleazy peddler was anyone's guess –They were almost beautiful where he wasn't– but whatever their reasons they both seemed to care for the man and worried over his wellbeing now that the view screen was situated.

"Meh," DeMilo waved them off, "I'm just a little out of shape is all. You girls get your show on, I'll worry about opening the shop." Marla and Darla shrugged at each other, still not really speaking, while DeMilo ignored them. The man was accustomed to their quiet forms of communication, and in the beginning of their odd relationship, it had set him on edge. Now, it was almost a comfort, and he seldom found any reason to be troubled by it, he thought idly as he stood back up to deposit the tea on the counter before limping over to the front door. As he came closer to the door and looked out the window, he grimaced and grumbled, "not like being open will make any difference today."

DeMilo turned the sign over to read "Open" to the street outside and flipped the lock. Just for effect, the little man opened and shut the door a few times so that the bell above the door would chime loudly. Gods willing, he thought, someone will hear the bell and decide to come in. DeMilo's nervous fidgeting with the front door was interrupted by the sound of the view screen coming to life behind him. The static from the screen was deafening, and DeMilo covered his ears as he ran for the counter, moving his screeching wives out of his way.

"You have to turn the nob, Marla." He admonished his wife, and waving Darla away from it, he continued, "this is very delicate, Darla!"

The girls simultaneously folded their arms at him in annoyance, but their countenances eased when the picture cleared, and the crest of the House of Gale appeared on the screen. As the image turned to one of the Queen seated in front of a warm fireplace, Marla and Darla rested their elbows of the counter to watch. DeMilo stepped back from the screen to allow his rapt wives to view the message and stood behind them to watch a look of mild disdain plastered on his face.

The Queen sat in quiet grace, with her hands resting in her lap. Her delicate face was thin, but there was light in her eyes where she had appeared weary an annual ago, and her silver curls were piled on her head without the accompaniment of crown or other jewels befitting her station. Her dress too was modest, made of white lace, and covered her neck and arms. Today, she appeared as a lady of the Realms rather than the most noble being in the lands. Her overall appearance was soothing and familiar, as if she were a family friend, and when the Queen opened her mouth to speak, her voice was soft and lilting:

"Dear friends, it is my greatest pleasure to speak to you today. Today, as you know, marks the second annual anniversary of the double eclipse, and our country's triumph over the dark. Though members of my own family have been given the honor of being called your heroes, we owe our gratitude to you, our people, for the triumphs that we celebrate today. These past annuals have been a non-ending season of renewal that we can all be proud of. Central City has returned to much of the splendor of its former days, and the Old Road has been repaved for many leagues in all directions, making our growing commerce all the more fruitful. Our lands have become fertile once more, and our children have returned to their classrooms to bring further light to the future of our lands. For my own family, this past annual has brought many blessings as well. My eldest was, as you know, freed from the clutches of the dark, and is healing more and more as the days pass, and this healing has only been helped along by the steady, loving hand of her husband, and the impending arrival of their child. We also recently celebrated the marriage of my youngest to her true love, bringing many more blessings on our family by the addition of my newest son-in-law and his brave son. I take great pride in the steps that my family has taken to heal, as I do with you, my people, and our great country. In the darkest days of my own imprisonment, I had faith that this great land would prevail over the dark. I speak to you now with a light heart, for that faith has turned to certainty. This certainty also gives me the ability to do what I so desperately need to do for myself and my family. In the next few annuals, my role as your monarch will diminish, as it should, and my heir apparent will take her rightful place as your leader. As bittersweet as giving you this news is, I am overjoyed that Azkadellia will be your next monarch. Her courage and steadfastness will serve you well, and her consort's appreciation for innovation will surely help usher in a new golden age for our land. The state of our land is strong today, as I hope it will be for annuals to come. Let us all celebrate and give thanks for the accomplishments of you, my people. Long may the Outer Zone prevail."

Midway through the Queen's speech, the chime over the door rang, and DeMilo jerked his head in its direction, while his mouth watered at the thought of a customer. A slight man, whose skin was the color of molten chocolate, shuffled through the door quickly, checking behind his shoulder as he shut the door. His eyes were so dark, that they seemed to shut out the light, and they darted around him cautiously as he pressed the door closed with both hands. He seemed to hang in the shadows, seemingly afraid of being seen, and when he turned to survey the shop, his eyes bore through Demilo like hot pokers. The presence of this man at this particular moment, when the most ordinary people were celebrating in the square, coupled with his clandestine demeanor, instantly peaked DeMilo's interest – and his ire. Ah come on, man. I'm trying to be a legitimate businessman here. How do they always find me? He thought and cringed slightly. This objection was only a side note however, as his desire for profit was greater than his need for honest business.

Opening his arms wide in greeting, he turned towards the man and stepped forward. "Welcome to DeMilo's Spiritual Emporium, where talismans and guidance are available for a reasonable price!"

The man looked around nervously and nodded at DeMilo. He hissed a question in DeMilo's direction, but Antoine did not hear him, so he spoke louder. When he spoke again, his deep voice had an oily quality to it, as if it was seeping into DeMilo's very soul, and Antoine shuddered internally. "I was told you were a man who could get things. Special things."

Antoine shrugged with pride, "Meh, I get by. Whatcha lookin' for buddy?"

The man turned back to the door, engaging the lock. Marla and Darla looked up, somewhat alarmed, and DeMilo waved them off without breaking eye contact with the man.

The man slithered up to DeMilo and replied, "I'm looking for a bejeweled belt, very old."

DeMilo scoffed, "Come on man, does this look like a clothier's? Maybe you should try the merchant's district. I hear they've got some nice stuff coming in from Ev."

The man clenched his teeth and grabbed Demilo by the lapels of his coat, growling deeply, "This isn't just any belt. It's very unique." The man released DeMilo and pulled a pouch out of his coat pocket, and Demilo watched with growing interest as he opened the pouch and pulled out a few rubies. Placing them in Demilo's hands, he continued, "I'd be willing to pay a handsome price to anyone who would be willing to help me obtain it for my employer."

DeMilo whistled and examined the gems in the light, then turning back to the man he replied, "Okay, man, look. I don't have anything like that here, but I can send you to the right place."

The man stood ramrod straight and folded his arms, "I'm listening."

DeMilo produced a card from his coat and handed it to the man, "Go to this person in the Realm of the Unwanted. She specializes in these kinds of antiques. If she can't get it, no one can."

DeMilo moved to give the man his rubies back. He was relieved when the man turned away and grumbled, "Keep it. Call it a down payment in case there's anything else I require from you." The man stalked back to the door and unlocked it. Before leaving, he turned around and looked directly at Antoine and stated, "I don't have to tell you that I wasn't here, do I?"

DeMilo scoffed nervously, "Of course not, anything for one of my best clients."

The man seemed satisfied by this response and disappeared through the door, barely even jostling the chimes as he shut the door once more. When he was gone, DeMilo darted to the door and stuck his head out into the morning light. No one could be seen in either direction outside. It was as if the man had melted away in the light, and this sent a shudder through the man, and he rubbed his sides furiously, trying desperately to get the chill out of his arms.

Marla and Darla exchanged nervous glances when the man left but turned back to the telecast of the celebrations. By the time DeMilo reentered the shop, they had shifted to the other side of the counter and were uttering whispered prayers to the effigy of Ozma the Great, and DeMilo could only look on and shake his head in disbelief. "How I managed to hook two of the most hoity toity religious freaks, I'll never figure out," DeMilo muttered, "but praise Ozma, I guess!" DeMilo lifted his eyes and hands to the ceiling, and then down to the outer butt cheek of each woman.

Marla exclaimed in annoyance, "Tony!" She swatted DeMilo's hand away as she moved from the counter, going about her morning routine of arranging the inventory and wiping down the counter.

Darla had remained stationary, however, and seemed wholly unaffected by both Demilo's crudeness and Marla's vociferous objection. Neither seemed bothered by Darla's lack of response and went about their chores, seemingly uncaring to her suddenly frozen countenance. Darla stood motionless in front of the altar, and her hands clutched at the feet of Ozma as if they were glued to the spot. Her eyes were shut tight, and her breathing became shallow. Behind her eyes, stars and fog seemed to swirl, and she was quickly becoming dizzy. Just when she felt the sensation of her stomach dropping from a sudden fall, her feet landed on solid ground. When she was deposited so firmly on the grass, Darla gasped for the shock to her senses, and she stared around in awe. She was on the high hills looking down on Central City. To her surprise, aside from the sudden change in her location, her appearance had also changed, and she was no longer was she in the costume of her daily life. Darla was in a gauzy sleeveless dress the color of sea mist that floated lazily in the breeze. Her hair was loose and flowing, and her feet were bare. She flexed her toes in the soft grass and smiled. When she looked back up to gaze at Central City, she almost jumped out of her skin at the realization that she was not alone.

The woman who stood in front of her was so beautiful that it knocked the air out of Darla's lungs. Her brilliant crystal blue eyes shone like glittering diamonds in the suns, and her pale golden hair flowed about her as if it was caught in a perpetual breeze. Although her garb was of a similar fashion to Darla's there was a regal quality to the woman, and a golden crown emblazoned with the initials of the realm circled her head to signify her rank. Then she spoke Darla's name without moving her lips, and all doubt left Darla's mind as to the identity of the ethereal woman.

Darla went down on her knees and exclaimed in a hushed tone, "Oh great Ozma, how may I serve you?"

Ozma smiled and replied, "Darla, you and your sister have already done much more than you know by helping those dearest to me once before. I need your assistance again." Ozma lifted Darla back to her feet and continued, now looking earnestly into Darla's brown eyes, "You must get a message to General Cain right away. He has to know about your husband's visitor today. Take word to the Tin Men, they will see your message home."

Darla nodded, "Yes Ozma, I will see it done right away."

Ozma's voice continued urgently, "You must not hide your true identity from them, or they will not take you seriously. Go to the Tin Men as Priestess of the Temple of Ozma, and your message will be taken swiftly to the Tin Man in the tower." Ozma held Darla's arms firmly and looked down to her, a plea in her eyes now, "There is something even more personal that you must relay to Wyatt Ulysses Cain when you see him. You must tell him to give my music box to Princess Dorothy before he leaves." Darla nodded again in affirmation, but almost had to cover her ears when Ozma's voice boomed in her head, "Dorothy must have this box to receive my message to her, or the future of the House of Gale and all that is good in the Outer Zone will end with her. You must do this Priestess; do I have your word?"

Darla winced as tears formed in her eyes, but she looked up into the eyes of the goddess nonetheless and whimpered, "Yes Great Ozma, you have my word. I will implore Sir Cain to give the music box to Princess Dorothy right away."

Ozma released her tight grip on Darla's arms and rubbed her arms lightly before stepping back with a relieved sigh. "Good, now go Priestess. I will not see you again, but if all goes well, you may see me one day in the future. Look for a brilliant blue herald on a morning with double rainbows, and you will know that I am here, and all is well. Farewell Priestess."

Darla nodded her farewell as she shut her eyes. The sensation of falling came back to her once more as her head swirled and stopped suddenly when she touched back down in the shop. She opened her eyes to find that she hadn't left the space she previously occupied, and she was back in her tight-fitting corset and matching chartreuse skirt. Her sister was now at the cash register counting money, and Antoine was standing in front of the view screen, shaking his head.

Darla glanced at the screen with mild interest to determine what DeMilo was shaking his head at. The image was of the royal family on the balcony overlooking the square. The Queen and her consort were flanked on either side by their daughters, and on either side of the young princesses was the Royal Advisor and - "Wyatt freakin' Cain," DeMilo chortled. "Comin' up in the world, Tin Man. Just don't forget your ole pal Antoine DeMilo," he spoke to the screen, now zooming in on the Princess Dorothy and General Cain, "You still owe me a new wagon!" DeMilo scoffed in amusement at the screen and turned to go to the storeroom, "I'm going to go count inventory, I've had enough fluff for one day."

Darla continued to gaze at the screen. There was something familiar about the general's blue eyes, but she could not place it. She shrugged and turned to her sister. "I have been given an errand. I'm going out for a little while."

Marla nodded knowingly and glanced at the statue. She had received her own message once before, having been told that she and her sister would marry a man that would one day provide great assistance to a Knight of the Realm and the Princess under his protection. Ozma had led Marla to Antoine DeMilo, and despite his outward sleaze, he had never disappointed with random acts of kindness to people down on their luck. Then, two annuals ago, Antoine had let Wyatt Cain take their wagon to escape Central City. Antoine had feigned injury, but in reality, he liked the Tin Man, and felt compelled to render aid. He had only disclosed this to Marla and Darla, begging them not to tell anyone out of fear of losing face to either the Tin Man or the rest of the underworld. Marla and Darla had quietly accepted all of this, having realized already who the young woman with the Tin Man was. Ozma's foretelling had come to fruition.

Darla hurried to a small bedroom in the back of the shop and quickly changed out of her carnival-like costume and scrubbed the heavy makeup from her face. In the place of this, she donned a green dress similar to the one worn in her vision, and she combed her dark locks out until they fell in a curtain of silken night over her shoulders. She placed a simple ring of gold on her head that rested on her forehead and fastened a dark green cloak around her neck. Darla was a vision in green, appearing with almost childlike beauty were it not for the feminine curves of her adult frame. She then exited the bedroom and nodded to her sister one last time before she slipped a note into the pocket of her cloak. Watching her sister's appearance change, Marla new that the vision that Darla had received must be important. Although the sisters had spent most of the Sorceress' reign in hiding, never showing their true identities in public for fear of falling victim to her longcoats, they had never shied away from duty when called. Now Darla was being called, and Marla gladly covered for her when she disappeared through the back of the shop.

Darla darted through the back alleys of the city. Although the streets were still emptied and most citizens were either in the square or lining the parade route at this hour, she still felt some need to be cautious and moved quickly. She had no need of hiding herself to the Tin Men, but she did not want to lose the cover of being one of DeMilo's girls just yet given the nature of their customer earlier in the day. Until she was closer to her destination, it was better to avoid notice as much as possible, and as she neared the Hall of Justice, Darla slowed to a stop to watch the front entrance.

The buildings in this section of the city were older, and most were made of a white stone, decked with intricate iron works along the doors and windows. The Hall of Justice was among the more impressive, as it stood in the center of this cluster of stone buildings and gleamed in the sunlight. Its edifice was wide and flanked with columns that ran the entire height of the tall structure. The building was crowned with molding from which the occasional star carved in stone appeared. To reach the entrance to the building, one would have to climb twenty wide stone steps that came out to meet the sidewalk in front of the building. That morning, there were not more than a few Tin Men milling in and out of the building in a small trickle, and the traffic on the sidewalk was non-existent. Darla took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. You're a priestess of the Temple of Ozma, not some backwater waif, Darla thought, steeling herself for the walk across the street and into the Hall of Justice.

When Darla stepped onto the sidewalk and across the street, she glided confidently as one in her station should. The Temple of Ozma was respected, having followed Ozma from the time of the Dorothy, when Ozma last ruled the OZ. When Ozma named Dorothy her heir apparent and slowly diminished, it had been whispered that she would return one day. It was believed that her return would herald a golden era in the OZ, and so the Temple of Ozma was born with a mission to prepare for her return. The Temple and the House of Gale had always been closely aligned, so many of the priestesses had gone into hiding with the rise of the Sorceress or been killed by the Sorceress herself in the early days of her reign of terror. Darla floated up the steps and silently entered the hall, her face screwed into a mask of fearless impassivity. The Tin Men that milled about the large atrium stopped talking immediately at the sight of Darla, and most even removed their hats and bowed slightly as she walked past to the reception counter. Darla kept her eyes forward, not acknowledging these signs of reverence, holding the guard at the desk in her sights as she glided forward.

When she stepped before the guard station, he babbled quietly and then coughed, "How might we be of service to the Temple of Ozma, Your Grace?"

Darla's chin rose slightly as she spoke quietly, but firmly in response, "I need a message delivered to General Cain immediately." Darla handed the guard the envelope and spoke without releasing her grip on the envelope, "This must be read by no one other than General Wyatt Cain, and it must be delivered immediately. Do you understand?"

The guard cleared his throat nervously and nodded, "Yes, yes ma'am. General Wyatt Cain."

Darla smiled warmly at the man and released her hold on the envelope. The man blushed and smiled back when Darla replied, "Thank you very much officer. May you have a pleasant Eclipse Day."

With her message delivered, Darla turned on her heal and exited the building. She melted back into the alleyways of the city, silently heading back to DeMilo's shop, having been successfully unseen by all except the Tin Men in the Hall of Justice.